


The Cookie Jar

by Chemical_Defect



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Friendship/Love, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Lies, Loss of Trust, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 21:04:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14723555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chemical_Defect/pseuds/Chemical_Defect
Summary: John arrives in 221b to find Greg, Mrs Hudson, Mycroft and Sherlock in the sitting room, all of them presenting various facial expressions – but sharing two. They're uncomfortable and extremely disappointed.Looking alternatively at every person in the room, he sighs loudly.'I knew this would happen if I went out.'





	1. Chapter 1

John arrives in 221b to find Greg, Mrs Hudson, Mycroft and Sherlock in the sitting room, all of them presenting various facial expressions – but sharing two. They're uncomfortable and extremely disappointed.

Looking alternatively at every person in the room, he sighs loudly.

'I knew this would happen if I went out.'

 

The atmosphere is heavy, thick with embarrassment, disappointment and betrayal. None of them is speaking, all of them standing, the two brothers standing close to each other without either of them bristling at the other's presence.

Greg is shuffling from one foot to the other, avoiding his gaze and Mrs Hudson worries her fingers together, meeting his eyes with protective fire in her eyes.

Mycroft, as per usual, is holding his back ramrod straight in a suit that was probably cut to give him an impressive aura. For once, he is not twirling his umbrella.

Sherlock, who usually holds himself in a haughty and poised manner appears small in his suit, shoulders slumped and gaze dropped to the floor.

He is clutching a small package in his fingers, lips white so tight he's holding them shut.

 

'Right. I suppose you've got things to say.'

'John, this situation calls for a cup of tea, I think.'

'Whiskey,' Greg and Mycroft mumble.

Sherlock stays silent. John tries to catch his eyes even as he is intensely fixing the floor.   
He nods, heading towards the kitchen. He puts the kettle on and prepares three cups, goes to the cabinet to retrieve a very good bottle of whiskey and two glasses.

'Dry, I assume,' he says giving the tumblers to Mycroft and Greg.

 

After he pours the water in the cups, he takes a slice of lemon, presses the juice in one of the cup to which he adds a splash of milk before holding it to Sherlock. As the detective doesn't make a move to take it, John sets the cup on the table next to his leather armchair and gives another cup to Mrs Hudson.  
Even she does not thank him.

 

He clears his throat, a loud rumble cutting through the deafening silence of the room.

'Don't you want to sit down? Might take a while.'

Mycroft very briefly squeezes Sherlock's arm and sits in John's chair, sending an extremely transparent message.

Greg and Mrs Hudson both sit heavily on the sofa, the Inspector slumping into it.

Sherlock lets himself fall gracelessly on his chair, his face ashen, still silent. Irene Adler's fake death didn't make such an impression on him. He is utterly shellshocked.

 

Mycroft has made sure to make John understand he is not welcome, Greg and Mrs Hudson have not given him such an unequivocal message, leaving a door open for explanations.

John is very much aware that he is tolerated in his own home – were it not for Sherlock's regard for him, he would not have been granted access. 

His eyes roam the room and the faces aroud him. Now that his courage is restaured, Greg is able to look him in the eye, his usual air of friendliness gone.

Once again, John sighs and draws the chair in which their clients sit.

The irony that he sits where Sherlock decides whether he deems the case of a client interesting enough to accept is not lost on him.

Though still visibly shaken, Sherlock seems inclined to listen to his story.

He has not touched the cup of tea John has made for him and is still clutching the evidence of John's betrayal between his fingers.

He looks up, utterly lost and confused.

John lowers his eyes and looks down at the floor, shame hitting him full force, his legs refusing to support him as he all but falls onto the simple wooden client chair.

_Into battle, Captain_ , he thinks to himself, clasping his hands together on his lap.

 


	2. Chapter 2

'I, er. I know what this looks like -'

'Doctor Watson, do kindly refrain from lying. Your good character is irrevocably destroyed as far as I'm concerned. You would do well not to jeopardise what little faith those present in the room might still have in you.' 

_Do not hurt my brother more than you already have._

'And I'm not going to pretend it's not,' John continues, ignoring Mycroft's interruption. 'I'm a user. My drug of choice is cocaine.'

'You don't seem the type. With my husband's cartel, I know what an addict looks like.'

'Takes one to know one, though. Sorry,' Greg apologises glancing at Sherlock before looking at Mycroft. 'Why?'

'I can't always cope,' he admitts in a defeated voice.

'Spare us the melodramatics, Doctor Watson.'

'The war, I get it. Things you wish you'd never seen. What I don't get is how you fooled Sherlock,' Greg wondered, draining his glass of whiskey.

'Mr Lestrade, do you think it's a good idea...'

'Not a regular user,' John replies. 'And a doctor. I know the signs and I know how to pass them as something else. I'm careful. I know you have a past,' he finishes, addressing Sherlock.

'Not careful enough,' comes Sherlock's weak voice, barely above a whisper.

'I always keep a small bag in my room if things become... too much.'

'John, that was on the kitchen table!' Lestrade exclaims.

'I know.'

'How? How could you be so... careless? Talk about a mindful friend!' he shouts indignantly.

'You left in a hurry early this morning, John. Sherlock was not awake. What happened?' asks Mrs Hudson in a concerned, almost frantic voice.

'I was about to – when I received a phone call. From Mike's wife. He's in hospital, he's had a terrible accident. I rushed to visit him and forgot...'

'Sentiment got the better of you,' Sherlock's cold voice cuts him off.

'And I failed to protect you,' John admits.

'You did,' Sherlock declares.

'I betrayed your trust.'

'You did,' Sherlock confirms and John's head hangs a little lower, an uncomfortable silence falls and stretches, Sherlock's cup of tea still untouched.

'When do you want me gone?' John eventually asks in a defeated voice, responsible soldier facing the terrible consequences of his actions.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is actually really, really short.  
> I do hope it is enjoyable regardless.

_'I'm not actually gay.'_

_'Well I am. Look at us both.'_

 

John's silence had been akin to a confession.

And yet he had deceived him. He had not denied his attraction to danger – Sherlock suspects it's the main reason for their partnership – but while he had confessed to having a history of drug abuse, John had hidden his. John who holds trust and honesty above all. John had lied.

And for what? For something that he holds even higher than these two superior moral characteristics. For love.

But without trust and honesty can there be love?

Not according to John Watson, not according to his moral compass.

 


	4. Chapter 4

'I don't.'

Another silence falls on the room, loaded with shock.

'Come again?'

'Brother mine, this is -'

'Oh, Sherlock, are you okay?'

'You all know that I despise repeating myself,' Sherlock replies in frustration 'However unwise you deem it, Mycroft, it is  _my_ choice.'

'Very well. Doctor Watson, I will give you a fair warning -'

'Surveillance 24/7 especially in my room,' John chuckles nervously, still having a hard time believing Sherlock's decision is real.

'Inspector, I trust you'll turn a blind eye to John's unfortunate predicament. Rest assured - '

'I will find a way to cope. A legal one,' John completes. 

Lestrade nods.

'I'll hold you onto that, John. Keep each other off the sauce. Well, then. Anything happens, call me. Or text me, whatever.  _Either of you_ ,' Lestrade adds before leaving.

 

'Mrs Hudson you do have a say in this,' John adds, anxious she'd veto him back into the flat.

'Well. If Mycroft assures me – if  _all of you_ assure me – there won't be any problems, what's one more user here?' she shakes her head as John snorts a laugh.

_They're mental._

 

'Another crisis averted. If you'll excuse me, I am needed in Vauxhall. Doctor Watson,' Mycroft continues in a low, serious voice, 'be aware that my brother's forgiveness is remarkable – and that I do not share it. Should any happening such as that of today happen sometime in the future, be assured I will not stand by Sherlock and let him put himself at risk in sharing his life with a junkie.'

Standing almost at attention, John nods.

'I assure you, Sir, that nothing of the sort will ever happen again,' he replies solemnly thus earning an appraisal from the elder Holmes – which John seemed to have passed as Mycroft nodded and left.

'A nice cup of tea while you two talk things out,' Mrs Hudson declares leaving Sherlock and John alone in the room.

 

'Why?' John asks, confounded.

'Why not?' Sherlock counters. 'You know I hate repetition.'

'I do. You have my word -'

'Obviously.'

Sherlock looks at John as if he's never met him before and gestures towards his armchair, inviting John to reclaim it. As John sits, fingers brushing almost reverently the armrests of the chair, of the place he had come so close to losing, a soft, warm smile appears on Sherlock's lips, transforming into a knowing, affectionate smile.

'I'd be lost without my Boswell.'

 


End file.
